Shards of Memory
by Mylene2511
Summary: Follow the story of a girl who wakes up in a cart with no memory of who she is or how she got there. She will have to remember who she is and find out who she can trust, while a great evil looms on the horizon.
1. Chapter 1

At first there was nothing. Then she felt everything.

The pounding in her head. Her parched swollen tongue. The sensation of moving, and bumping her head over and over on a hard, rough surface. She could tell she was lying down, and she felt tightness around her wrists. _My hands must be bound_ she thought, in a confused haze. As she lay on her side, she became aware of a snorting, breathy sound, and a creaking all around her. She tried to open her eyes, but was forced to squint at the sudden flood of light to her unaccustomed pupils. Squinting blearily, she waited for her world to stop shifting. She thought she saw the outlines of some people through the blur, and as everything came into focus, she slowly became aware of where she was. She seemed to be lying on the bench of a wooden cart being drawn by a powerful chestnut horse. The panting beast was being driven by a broad shouldered, muscular man with his face turned away. He seemed to be wearing armor of some kind, made of dark leather and faded metal. He also wore a helmet that blocked his profile completely from view, making any kind of personal impression impossible. She focused her attention on the man directly behind the driver. He was bound like her, and looking off in the distance, so he did not notice her scrutiny. He had blonde hair that reached his shoulders in thin whips, and a single braid that swayed with the movement of the cart, occasionally tapping him in the face. Unlike the driver, he wore a sort of chain mail, under a quilted fabric, and a blue covering of a finer cloth. She supposed it may have been vibrant at some point in its life, but now it was covered in a layer of grime and filth like the rest of him. His hair was greasy, and his face covered in dirt, but it did not completely cover up the fact that this man was fairly handsome.

Her thoughts were detoured when her body shivered from the cold of their surroundings, and she turned her thoughts to herself. How did she get here? Why was she bound? Who were these men? The harder she thought, the more she realized she could not remember anything from before she came to consciousness in the cart. She wasn't even sure what her name was, or what she looked like. She tried to raise herself into a seated position to get as much of a look at herself as she could, but only managed to prop herself up on one arm. The effort made her head swim, and the pounding grew exponentially. She could see over the edge of the cart now, and saw that the likely culprit of the pressing cold was the thick, swirling fog all around them. Now she saw another horse drawn cart a ways ahead of them, filled with people. She couldn't see them clearly through the mist, but it looked like they might have been bound too. There also seemed to be men walking behind their cart, dressed in the same leather armor as the driver. Suddenly she realized her movement must have attracted the attention of the man in blue, because he was staring at her intently. When he saw her looking at him, he lightly nodded at her in greeting.

"Hey. Looks like you're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right?" He asked, as the cart rounds a bend, causing the back of her head to smack against the edge of the cart. Her eyes water in pain and for a moment, the pounding drowning out everything else. But the moment passes, and it settled back into its previously distracting beat.

"Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us. Same as that thief over there." He jerked his chin behind her, and she carefully adjusted herself to see. There were two others occupying their dingy cart that she had previously not seen. One was dressed similarly to the blonde man across from her, but his features looked older, and more haggard, and his hair was thicker, wavy, and a more russet color. What's more, he was gagged, and his eyes seemed to stare at nothing. Diagonally from herself was a man in rags, similar to what she appeared to be wearing, who looked at the men in blue with purer loathing. His cropped, dark hair and tiny, wide-set eyes made his face, twisted into a snarl, all the more prominently hideous.

"Damn you Stormcloaks! Skyrim was fine until you came along!" he growled at the blonde man. "Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." He turned to the girl, his glare softening. "You there. You and me, we shouldn't be her. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." The blond man, the Stormcloak, snorts, arresting the attention of the thief, "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief." Before the man in rags could respond, the driver called back in a nasal voice, "Shut up back there!" The thief rolled his eyes and looked to the gagged man. "What's with him, huh?" he asked, his tone sounding more resigned. "Watch your tongue!" the Stormcloak barked, "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, true High King!" The thief was visibly shocked. He looked back and forth between the two Stormcloaks, "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion! They captured _you_?!" The panic in his voice began to rise and he began to tremble. "Where are they taking us?!" The man beside him looked away, his face solemn. "I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits." The thief began to shake uncontrollably and stared at his hands. "No! This can't be happening! This isn't happening!" The Stormcloak sighed and returned his gaze to the terrified man. "What village are you from, horse-thief?" He asked, in an obvious attempt to soothe him. "Why do you care?" the horse thief shoots back, his anger not quite covering the fear in his voice. The Stormcloak's gaze grew impossibly sadder, "A nord's last thoughts should be of home."

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So, in an attempt to force myself to be more creative, but without interfering with my gaming habits too much (Might have a wee bit of an addiction), I'm documenting one of my Skyrim runs. Plus, this is going to force me to play along stricter lines, instead of just doing quests for all the deities, guilds, and people I come across. This means no, or as little as possible fast travel, I have to eat three meals a day, and sleeping enough to stay alive (because, lets be honest, who actually takes the time to sleep when you could be pilfering for the thief's guild). Plus, all of this will give my character and run a little more depth. Let me know what you think of it, and any thoughts on my future storyline. I'm thinking of joining the war, since I've never done that, but I'm unsure of the side. Or if I should work for any specific deity. I'm working this out as I go along, and I'm hoping to write a page a day, and upload in 1000 word increments. Hope you stay to see how this lays out! :)


	2. Chapter 2

"A nord's last thoughts…." The thief repeated in a daze. "R-Rorikstead" he choked out. "I'm from Rorikstead." A voice in the distance cried out, "General Tullius, sir!" distracting the conversation.

The girl took the moment to consider what was happening, and appreciate the fact that her head was now mostly clear, if not somewhat muddled. She thought she felt something against her throat, but dismissed it for the moment. The man to her right, Ulfric, was clearly pretty important. The other men had called him "High King" and "Jarl of Windhelm" and though she wasn't sure what these "Windhelm" or "Skyrim" were (or any of those other things for that matter. "Rorikstead"? "Hammerfell"? "Sovngarde"?), judging from the way the blonde looked at him, they were pretty impressive titles. But a rebellion? Maybe that's why he called him the _True_ High King. Perhaps there was a dispute of who should rule? Thinking too hard about it made her head hurt worse, so she let the thought pass. She should be more worried about _why_ she was bound in the back of a cart, and _where_ she was headed. The man had said about a "nord's last thoughts", and that "Sovngarde awaits". That didn't sound good at all. She quite liked thinking, and had no intention of letting someone stop her. And if she had to stop thinking before she would reach this "Sovngarde"? That sounded even worse. She began to feel fear rise within her, but screwed her eyes shut and took a deep breath to steady herself. She would NOT panic. She would find a way to escape from this strangeness and figure out who she was and what happened to her. She was not going to die today, if she had any say in it. As far as she knew, she had done nothing wrong. When she opened her eyes again, she noticed that the fog had dissipated, and that it was a moderately more sensible temperature. She also noticed that they were almost right in front of high stone walls, and a large wooden gate.

A man in "Imperial" uniform was standing atop the walls, and as they crossed under the gate, he cried out "The headsman is waiting!" She took the moment to force herself into a sitting position. The movement caused the thing she had noticed before to shift around her neck. "Good. Let's get this over with." Another voice called out, and she turned her head to see a somewhat bald man, a bit past his prime, gingerly riding a horse behind them now. Before she could think more about him, or the thing around her neck, the thief called out again. "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh! Divines, please help me!" The Stormcloak rolled his eyes at the thief, and turned to look at the man behind the cart. "General Tullius," he spat in disgust, "the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor with him." He jerked his head to several figures lingering near the wall. "Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

Suddenly, a glint of light seemed to be reflected on his face. "What have you got there lass?" he asked, using both hands to point at her neck. "I-I'm not sure." Shar replied. The three men looked at her expectantly, so she reached up, and pulled the thing away from her neck so she could finally see it. "It's a locket." She stated, examining it as best she could. It had an intricate engraving of a winged beast, with a long tail that created a half moon shape on one side of the locket face. In the place of an eye, it had a miniscule ruby set into it. The creature's mouth was wide open, tendrils of fire circling what wasn't protected by the tail. It appeared to be made of pure gold, and she searched for the catch to open it, but to no avail. However, she did notice an engraving on the back, and flipped it over. "To Shar, my little dragon. So you may always find your fire." She read out. _Shar…. Is my name Shar then? At least I know that now._

She looked up to see something unidentifiable in the Stormcloak's eyes. "Someone must have loved you very deeply to give you such a precious gift." He said softly. "I never introduced myself. My name is Ralof. It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Shar." She smiled. "It is a pleasure to meet you too, Sir Ralof." The thief groaned. "Whatever, who cares about gifts or names. Where are we?!" he pulled his knees up to his chest, and looped his arms around them, holding them to his torso.

Ralof looked around them as they rattled along. "This is Helgen. I used to be sweet on a girl from here. I wonder if Vilod is still making that mead out of juniper berries? Funny. When I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe." He looked back at his hands, lost in nostalgia.

They were now passing a house where a little boy with wild russet hair was sitting on the steps. A man with cropped dark hair stood behind him. The boy was staring intently at their cart as it moved past, and without turning around he asked, "Who are they daddy? Where are they going?" The man frowned and said to his son "Let's go inside, little cub." The boy frowned, still not moving. "Why? I wanna watch the soldiers." The man was angry now. "Inside the house!" he barked. The boy sighed and began to get up. "Yes Papa…" Shar turned back to the cart, only to see that the previously disengaged expression of Ulfric was now flaming with anger. Shar scooted a little farther away from the man, not knowing what to make out of his violent mood swing. She looked to the thief, but he just shrugged his shoulders, looking as confused as she was.

Just then a harsh, female voice barked out ahead of them, "Get the prisoners out of their carts! Move it!" They looked up to see they were nearing one of the massive stone walls, and that the other cart had already rolled to a halt. "Wh-why are we stopping?" the thief chattered in fear. "Why do you think?" said Ralof, sounding more resigned than ever. "End of the line."

The prisoners from the other cart had already been unloaded by the time they had drifted to a halt beside their cart. Ralof looked up from his hands, a new light in his eyes. "Let's go." He said "Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us." The four of them stood up, and the thief began to gesture wildly to Shar and himself. "No wait! We're not rebels!" Shar hopped off the cart while Ralof said behind her "Face your death with some courage, thief." The thief now had trouble walking, his trembling had gotten so bad. "You've got to tell them we weren't with you! This is a mistake!" Ralof sighed. "She can hear you horse-thief." He gestured to the woman who was clearly ignoring them. "She doesn't care." He looked at Shar. "I'm sorry this had to happen to you. That this is how the empire treats everyone, even its own."

The woman spoke up again. "Step toward the block when I call your name! One time!" Ralof shook his head, looking at the man beside the imperial woman, holding a board with some paper on it, and a charcoal pencil. "Empire loves their damn lists." Then the man read out, "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." Ralof bowed his head in respect at his leader. "It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric."

"Ralof of Riverwood." The man read out next. Ralof looked to Shar. "It was nice to know you. Perhaps we will meet again is Sovngarde." He gave her a soft, sad smile, and went to join the others. Shar tried to smile back, but the bile rising in her throat made it too difficult. She swallowed roughly to contain it. _I don't want to die today. I don't want any of them to die either. There has to be away out of here._ Shar tried to work at her restraints, but the imperials knew how to imprison people. The binds were leather cuffs that slid on to each wrist, and buckled like a belt, before being tied in an intricate knot.

"Nokir of Rorikstead" the man read out next, as Shar continued to work at the knots, but really only making them tighter. Nokir stepped closer to the soldiers, screaming "No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" "You will die with the others." The woman spat in his face. Then, before Shar could even blink, Nokir had taken off down the road. The woman whipped around, yelling "Halt!" Shar snorted. _Yeah, like that's gonna work. Run you twitchy bastard!_ "You're not gonna kill me!" he cried back. For a moment, Shar thought he would make it to safety, but then the imperial woman said one word that made her blood run cold. "Archers!" The twang of bowstrings echoed all around her, and about six arrows imbedded themselves into Nokir's back. He fell to the ground and moved no more. The woman looked from the bloody corpse of the horse-thief to Shar. "Anyone else feel like running?" she asked loudly enough for the whole square to hear, but her gaze never leaving the girl's face. Shar shook her head. _There's no escape from this place._


	3. Chapter 3

The imperial man seemed to finally notice Shar's existence. "Wait… You there. Step forward." She stepped forward with trepidation. "Who are you?" he asked. A glimmer of hope began to form in Shar. _If they don't know who I am, maybe I will be set free!_ "Sh-Shar. My name is shar." She stuttered with excitement. The man looked from her to his lit, and jotted something down.

"You picked a bad time to come home to Skyrim, kinsman." He said softly, still immersed in writing. Then he looked up to the woman standing next to him. "Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list?" Shar felt lighter, and fought to keep a smile from her face. _I'm NOT going to die today!_ "Forget the list, she goes to the block." The Captain replied, looking at Shar with distain. Shar felt her stomach drop, and her eyes grow wide. She looked pleadingly at the man, who was now looking at his list with a strange expression on his face. The Captain started walking toward the crowd of prisoners and guards. The man looked up at her receding back. "By your orders Captain." He called out.

He turned to Shar, who was now looking at him with great loathing. "I'm not on your list, but you still send me to death. You know I have committed no crimes." He looked away, his shame written all over his face. "I'm sorry. At least you'll die here. In your homeland. Follow the Captain, please." "I hope you remember what has happened today for the rest of your life." Shar spat on his boots, and turned on her heel to join the others.

She walked across the dirt, her head down, so no one could see the tears threatening to spill over. She joined the line of prisoners, and threw her head back, blinking to keep the tears at bay. When she had finally composed herself, she looked around to see General Tullius was standing right in front of Ulfric, and was in the middle of shouting at him. "You started this war! Plunged Skyrim into chaos! And now the Empire is going to put you down, and restore the peace!" He kneed Ulfric in the stomach, and turned on his heel. As he walked back to the other guards, Shar could hear the cries of the offended Stormcloaks, and saw many strain at their restraints. The tension in the air became more palpable, and Shar began to feel a tightness in her chest.

Shar saw a man open his mouth to say something, but just then a great, screeching cry echoed through the sky. "What was that?" a prisoner asked? "It's nothing." Tulluis said, clearly startled enough to talk to a Stormcloak like they were a person, instead of a prisoner. _That was most certainly not nothing. _Shar looked to the sky, but saw nothing. Tullius turned to the Captain. "Carry on." The man was clearly startled, and when he moved off to the side of the square, Shar saw him talking to one of the guards, who nodded and left with several others.

The Captain, obliviously, turned to the tower behind her. "Priestess! Headsman!" She barked, and two people exited the tower, walking toward her. One was a woman dressed in yellow and orange robes, with the hood pulled up so her face was obscured in shadow. Beside her strode a monster of a man, almost 7 feet tall to be sure, and muscles so bulging, Shar wondered how his skin held together. He carried a large poled axe, the handle worn, and the blade black as night. It looked stained, and well used. Shar didn't want to think about why.

They approached the Captain, and she stepped to the side, revealing the block. It was, simply, a limestone block, with a curve cut into one side. It was perfectly square otherwise, and sat about 2 feet high. What made it so terrifying though, was the brown stain that had set into the stone on the top side, the chips in the rock where it began to curve, and the equally stained wicker basket sitting in front of it. The man stood behind it, and began to take practice swings with the axe, a bloodthirsty grin on his face and a wild look in his eyes. Shar eyed him wearily. _He enjoys his job way too much. _The priestess approached the Captian, who told her "Give them her last rights." The robed figure nodded, and stepped toward the crowd, reaching her hands to the sky, palms up.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the eight divines upon your-"she was cut off by a man to Shar's right who stepped forward from the crowd, yelling "For the love of Talos, shut up!" He walked toward the block, and stood beside it, looking at no-one. "Let's get this over with. The priestess lowered her hands and snorted. "As you wish." She left in the direction the guards had gone, leaving them to their fate.

"Come on then" shouted the man at the block. "I haven't got all morning." The Captain, permanent scowl undisturbed, stalked forward, putting her hand on the man's shoulder, forcing him violently to his knees. Then, using the sole of her boot, kicked him square in the back, slamming his chest into the block. Shar could hear the breath being knocked from his lungs. Still, he managed to croak out, "My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials. Can you say the same?

Shar saw the Captain nod at the headsman, and his grim grew wider, stretching across his whole face with horrific pleasure. He swung the axe back, and Shar screwed her eyes shut, knowing what was about to happen. Still, she could hear everything, including the whistle of sharpened metal through air. Then the axe hit his neck. She could hear the blade cleave through flesh and bone; the sickening squish and crunch making her stomach churn, and bile rise in her throat. She kept her eyes closed as she heard the rattle and thud of his head rolling into the basket, and the squelch of the axe pulling away from the rest of his body.

She swallowed a few times, and opened her eyes in time to see the Captain kick the body away from the block with unnecessary force. Blood still flowed down the sides of the block, and the man's lifeless eyes seemed to stare at her from the basket. People around her were shouting now. "You imperial bastards!" one woman yelled, while others screamed "Justice!" The yelling seemed to swell, when the Captain finally cried "Silence" bringing it all to a halt. "Death to the Stormcloaks!" she declared, and kicked the body once more.

Shar could see Ralof in her peripheral vision, and heard him say softly "As fearless in death as he was in life." Shar could feel the panic begin to rise again, and her hands begin to shake. _I don't want to die! Not today and not like this!_ It was getting harder to breath, and her chest felt severely constricted. She began to think she might be getting ready to pass out, her whole world froze. "Next!" cried the Captain. "The nord in the rags."

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Authors Note: So at a recommendation from one of the readers, I'm going to rewrite this chapter in 1st person, and post it. I want you guys to tell me what you think, and if you REALLY like it better, I might change the story to 1st person, but it's going to take a lot to convince me.

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2ND NOTE: actually, screw that. I write in 1st person all the time. The point of doing this was to get better at writing. This is gonna keep going in 3rd person. If you don't like it, suck it.


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